Darling Daughter started to complain that she had a ginormous zit on her face.
Thing One immediately chimed in that Mrs. Panzer, the school nurse, had just been talking to them about Puberty.
This is when I folded the paper and got "ready" for the "talk", or the questions, or the giggles, or the serious discussion that was certain to ensue.
But instead Thing Two said, "oh yes, we just learned about Immigration".
Darling Daughter and I exchanged perplexed glances...
Darling Daughter decided to interject and said, "well, that was random".
At which point Thing One responded, "oh yeah, I know, people actually died on the boats on the way over here".
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I have to wonder: Is the lesson here: "don't complain about your zit, sister, because you are lucky you grew up in America and didn't perish on a ship during the commute?"
I'm not sure, but I went back to reading my paper and will happily save the "talk" for another night.
Darling Daughter shook her head, took another glance at the zit in the mirror, shrugged her shoulders and went to bed.
Clearly the trials of puberty is not an actual tragedy!